


All the Lovers

by 道 (daoxmu)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M, Grinding, Light Masochism, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Penetrative Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Hand Jobs, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:42:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daoxmu/pseuds/%E9%81%93
Summary: Akira thought they were going to do nice and classy things. Not that Ann’s alternative isn’t nice.





	All the Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Cw: talk of slits and entrances and self lubing and such. Pls let me know if I should tag or put a heads up for other stuff.

Akira is near asleep on the train when it lurches. Next thing he knows he’s pinned to the door by the front.

It doesn’t take too long for everyone to right themselves to where they were. Akira’s just about there himself when two spindly hands with long nails place themselves on his navel.

“Hi Ann.” 

“Hi.” she replies, snuggling against his back. Voice impish, for reasons only she knows. Though he gets a clue pretty quick when one hand ducks into his pants.

“My hands are cold,” she explains helpfully. 

Akira is in fact on the scene with her hands and receiving real time updates in the form of her lightly tapping and squishing his fupa. Her hands are not cold.

She keeps at it. Drumming patternless beats with her fingers and idly tracing along the tops of his legs. 

When she suddenly rubs her thumb along his dick over the outside of his briefs it’s like a white hot brand wiping out all his thoughts. He’s already begun to swell.

A few more broad swipes of her thumb then she’s taking hold of him between her fingers. Gently jacking him, pinching and stretching his foreskin until he’s straining against his briefs.

Then it all stops as the doors open. Ann’s hands on his waist keep him from resting too easy though. They are hands with plans, and sure enough when the train starts back up her hands slip back into his trousers. 

She pinches and tugs at him and his mind whites out. The seconds in her grip hurt, Ann’s pinching just shy of too hard. Her touch made coarse by the fabric of his underwear. It hurts, it aches, he’s sore and wet. But it still…

Akira’s eyes flutter shut as she gives him another hard stroke. He presses his cheek to the cool metal of the door for fear of overheating.

Today Ann’s got fake nails with lots of teeny little knick-knacks glued onto them, a result of her latest shoot. They were already impressive from a glance.

Rubbing and bumping against his over-raw dick however they feel fucking incredible. Some spice to her already vast arsenal. A sharp nail scratching over his length, stroking him between her knuckles, her hand cupping his damp sex. 

“Panther!” he squeaks when the pointy tip of her nail traces over his entrance. It stops at the head of his dick for a long moment before she gives him a long harsh tug. Painstakingly dragging each stitch in the fabric over him and he’s seeing stars. The resulting tremor renders his legs jelly, leaving the doors to support his weight.

Only for the doors open to their stop, presenting him to the station in all his flushed and disheveled glory. Being in the thick of the late afternoon rush however, they’re as good as invisible.

Knowing this does not calm his hot cheeks. His pants are conspicuously cool now that Ann’s hand isn’t jammed down there.

“You should wear this,” she says brightly, fishing his face mask from his pocket. 

“It’s gonna fog up my glasses,” he says as she’s looping the straps over his ears. 

“Akira they fog up every time you step off the train.” Snapping the second strap into place she gives him a peck on the lips.

Akira turns his head to look at the full-length mirror. Taped at the top of the mirror is a banner cheerfully telling him he’s pretty when he smiles.

Akira looks at the man in the mirror, a clear red kiss mark on his disposable face mask, and smiles.

***

Remarkably they made it to Ann’s room before she tried ripping his pants off. Stopping just short of the bed when Ann successfully gets him bare down under. She clambers onto the bed, sitting back to the wall before taking Akira down with her.

“Sorry,” Akira pants. Teeth gritting as he rides Ann’s stocking clad thigh. Each wanton thrust smears precum all over his cock and her pretty red stockings.

Ann responds with a gentle curve of her eyes before yanking his ass down by the hips and flexing her leg.

On instinct he runs frantic fingers through her hair. Loosening her right hair tie and burying his face in her hair.

It’s too much. Akira can’t think beyond grinding his hips in small circles. Simultaneously feeding and dousing the heat between his legs. Can’t see through the sparks that fly behind closed lids with each torturous drag of scratchy nylon.

“Panther,” he moans brokenly and she freezes. Her thighs squeezing his as she groans. A quiet thing but he feels it reverberate against him and right then he needs to be closer, closer.

Pressing himself closer. Riding it out until his numb legs can’t take his weight and he has to flop back. 

It takes a while to remember breathing and moving. A treacherous while marked by pin and needles, sleepy legs, and stand up dizzies, but Akira does manage to get up and think about the cleaning.

Grabbing his briefs off the floor he quietly stares at Ann’s laundry hamper and weighs his options.

“Oh yeah, just toss ‘em in there.” Ann pipes up from where she’s sprawled out, taking up the entire bed.

Akira makes no move to do so.

“Don’t worry I do my own washing.” Ann adds.

Akira slingshots his briefs into the hamper and heads to the bathroom to do a quick tidy up. Upon return he finds Ann hasn‘t moved, he winces at the mess on her tights.

“Still light out,” he says as he tugs on his trousers. “Should we do those errands..?” 

He trails off when familiar arms wrap around his waist. Ann rests her chin on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna make you ruin your pants.” Ann declares.

“I sure hope you wouldn’t do that.” Akira says, in vain, her hands are already crawling down.

“I won’t,” Ann chirps, “you will.”

With that she tugs his waistband up, seam digging into his drenched slit and swollen oversensitive dick. Akira hides his face behind his hands. He’s chafed, his nethers are probably a similar colour to Ann’s tights, he’ll definitely be sending several whiny texts later. 

But bless his pain gluttonous self he can’t resist, and from the cackle against his neck Ann knows it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hello it’s me dao coming out of my bog to show my entire self indulgent ass. Again. howEVER my brain wont stop with this and it is interfering with my sleeping and updating of WIPs so here we are.


End file.
